


The Closest Distance Between Two Points

by harmonyfb



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 14:39:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2551238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harmonyfb/pseuds/harmonyfb





	The Closest Distance Between Two Points

Hop. _Wince._ Hop. _Wince._

If there was a god, Tegan was sure he was laughing at her.

First, she was lost. Again. It seemed like any time she ventured beyond the triangle of the control room, her bedroom, and the wardrobe, she wound up hopelessly lost. Three days it had taken her to get out, last time, and she still wasn’t sure exactly where she’d been.

Second, she’d turned her ankle. Also, again. It was getting so you could set your watch by it, _though_ , she thought viciously, _it wasn't her fault_. As far as she’d seen, there wasn’t anything remotely resembling sensible shoes in the wardrobe room. She was half-convinced that the Doctor did it that way on purpose – after all, if she went down he got to play the rescuer and got to act all superior about it later. She supposed it went along with the fact that all the clothes her size were apparently sewn during a fabric shortage. And she’d noticed that the skirts were getting shorter (no pants or anything in there, oh, no), and the tops might as well be a couple of band-aids, seeing as how the ones left were pretty much ripped shirts held on by a string. _Might as well be naked_.

“Wait, forget I thought that,” she said out loud.

Resting on a convenient bench (Why were there benches just randomly stuck into hallways? It boggled the mind.), she set her foot gingerly on the seat. Swollen, but not bruised. Well, at least it wasn’t broken, so she wouldn’t die from blood poisoning if it took her days to find her way out. “No worries, I’ll probably starve first, anyway,” she muttered.

“Tegan? Is something wrong?”

There he stood, like she hadn’t been lost all morning, hands in his pockets, infuriating air of nonchalance, just like always.

“Only that I’m lost and I’ve broken my ankle. Well, near broken it. Again. I’ve been calling and calling and nobody heard – didn’t any of you notice I was gone? I could have died of old age, wandering around in here.”

She saw the familiar shadow of irritation flit across his eyes and vanish, but there was no trace of it in his voice when he spoke. “Here, let me help you up.” His figure might be boyish, but he was strong, lifting Tegan up with one hand firm around her waist. “Sorry, I hadn’t noticed, actually – I’ve been looking through some calculations and I’m afraid I lost track of time.”

They rounded the corner, and to Tegan’s surprise, they were in the control room. “This can’t be! There aren’t two control rooms, are there? I know my way here – but…”

“You just came up the shortcut.”

“Doctor, it’s only a shortcut if you need to go wherever it is that goes. From the kitchen to the library, it’s the long way around.”

“Looked at from your perspective, I suppose it is.” He lowered her to the floor, squatting beside. “Let’s have a look at that ankle.” He poked, and prodded and turned and clucked, reaching the same conclusion she’d come to an hour earlier. “Shall we get you to your room so you can lie down?”

“I think I’ll rest for a minute, if you don’t mind. I’ve been hopping about for hours.”

“Well, suit yourself.” He turned back to the control panel, tapping screens and manipulating dials.

“You know what I can’t work out?”

His back stiffened, hand hovering in mid-air. He really did hate being interrupted. Tegan was just self-aware enough to realize that’s why she did it so often. “What?”

“I just don’t understand how this advanced ship is designed like a 1970’s science fiction movie.” And a bad one, too, she thought.

“What’s wrong with the design?”

“Well, look at those huge knobs – and switches and dials, and this –“ She gestured to the grey honeycomb of the walls. “I’m sure I saw that on a Friday night movie. Are they all like this?”

“More or less. They’ve the same working parts.”

“But not the same look.”

“Well, no. That’s an additional function of the chameleon circuit, I’m afraid.”

“So it is stuck in the 70’s?”

“If you insist on saying it like that. I find its design to be rather…cheerful. Reminds me of my younger days.”

“Can’t get it fixed, then?”

“Not without a trip back to Gallifrey.” He filled the sudden silence with motion, more switch-flipping and chart-reading. “And after all, looks aren’t everything. The TARDIS works perfectly – most of the time – without bothering about how the old girl looks.”

“Why don’t you want to go back?”

He slammed his hand down hard on the controls, the lines of his body rigid. He’d managed a smile by the time he turned, saying, “Why don’t we get you back to your room? You’ll be needing some ice on that ankle.”

This time, he picked her up, light as a feather, carrying her briskly along the corridor. “I’ll tell Nyssa to bring you something for it, and it should be right as rain in the morning.”

He laid her on the bed, and busied himself fetching a pillow to prop her foot. It was odd how he tended them, sometimes. Like trees, or favorite pets. Sometimes, she’d catch him looking at her, or Turlough, and the distance in his eyes made her blood run cold.

She stared at his face, so carefully blank while his hands were shaking. “Do you miss it?” she murmured.

He hesitated, his answer carefully weighed. “On occasion.”

“I miss home sometimes, too.” As he bent to lay her on the bed, she said, “When I was a child, we lived in Australia, and now…” Now she lived with a relative in a place where she didn’t see the sun half the year, and the water was always cold , but she had a job she loved and friends she cared about, too. “I miss it, sometimes, just…it’s like a place that I want to be there in case I go back, you know? I’m just not sure when I’ll want to go.”

He covered her hand with his own, fingertips firm and steady. And then the fleeting pressure was gone, and so was he. _Maybe_ , she thought, _Gallifrey wasn’t so far from Sydney, after all._


End file.
